


confiance

by klytaemnestra (klytae)



Series: Midgar Blues - A Collection of Shinra Noir [10]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28853319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klytae/pseuds/klytaemnestra
Summary: They have discussed this all before, the how and why and what Tseng's intentions are with him, how it will require Rufus to relinquish whatever control he possesses in the bedroom, that he must give himself up to Tseng, and rely solely on the trust that exists between them, as equals, as lovers.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Series: Midgar Blues - A Collection of Shinra Noir [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1915873
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	confiance

Tseng finds him there alone, slim figure draped in white, set against the skyline dotted with lights of green, red, and pale yellow. It has rained this night, shrouding the city in a hazy mist, the waxing moon a clouded glow peeking just above the tops of buildings.

He’s returned from a mission down in Sector 2, a hit. Some mid-level employee caught up in unfortunate business. It had been a simple shot to the head, blood spattered against the leather interior of a rented sedan. They hadn’t the time to react, and for that Tseng is grateful. He takes no pleasure in these kills, but selling Shinra secrets come with a price, especially if those secrets are blackmail to be used against the President’s only legitimate son, and  _ Tseng’s _ lover. A zip drive full of photographs, Rufus Shinra in various compromising positions inside Tseng’s parked car in an alleyway near the theatre district. A moment of indiscretion, Tseng remembers it well, it had been late, his cock shoved down the Vice President’s throat after some outing at one of the many jazz venues Rufus so adores. They simply hadn’t known they were followed, photographed, exposed. No one is foolish enough to try to sell the photos directly, but there are many within Midgar who might take advantage of possessing such incriminating knowledge.

‘It’s done?’ Rufus’ voice is emotionless. The hit was his order. Tseng would have done it without one.

The zip drive clatters against the desk.

‘Good.’

Tseng makes himself a drink, bourbon, neat, and savours the way the liquor burns its way down his throat. Something to take the edge off, though he chooses not to imbibe too much, for he must keep his wits about himself tonight. And setting the crystal tumbler aside, crosses the room to pull Rufus close. His lover tenses beneath the touch, lips warm, insistent against the arch of his neck. There’s a sigh then, as one gloved hand slides along that same arch, and tightens in a promise of what this evening holds.

Rufus turns, fingers catching the line of Tseng’s suit, fluttering across the silk of his tie, and the hard shape of his Shinra issue Quicksilver, holstered beneath his arm. Rufus is always a bit eager after a mission, particularly the ones where Tseng has killed for him. Tseng makes a soft sound of disapproval when he tugs on the shoulder holster, knowing what Rufus wants, but it is a risky proposition. ‘Wait.’ He commands Rufus go into the bedroom. The words feel foreign on his lips, it is an uncommon thing to find himself ordering his lover around. Rufus smiles, and slinks away into the shadows.

A few scant lights remain lit, casting the room in looming shades of darkness and light. It might seem almost ghoulish if not for the mako glow of the city around them, filtering in through expansive glass windows. He watches the way Rufus falls against the bed, long legs angled just so, silken robe barely leaving anything to the imagination, not that Tseng cannot draw a perfect image of Rufus in his mind, each line, and angle, soft curve, and hard muscle, the way his cock rests against his thigh waiting to be coaxed to full arousal. There’s a box on the dresser, bound in leather. Tseng scans the contents, his movements methodical as if preparing for a mission in the field. He loosens his tie.

He pulls out a materia, rolls the green orb in his palm before setting it atop the dresser. Seal. Rufus watches him from where he’s splayed languidly across the sheets. ‘What’s that?’

Tseng lifts another, Time. ‘I will require your utmost trust.’ He replies, as he checks the replica Peacemaker tucked away to ensure it is a facsimile. While Rufus might enjoy the heightened danger of the prospect of using firearms in ways that are decidedly ill-advised, Tseng is no fool. A gun, even unloaded, is a weapon in which to kill, and so certain alternatives must be implemented. A sash of silk slides against leather gloves, something to bind Rufus’ hands. ‘Do you trust me?’ Tseng knows it’s all formality, that Rufus trusts him wholly, but he needs that vocal affirmation as he moves to settle above Rufus’ form, hands pulling away at the robe to reveal Rufus clad in a delicate body harness, lines crossing over his chest, and torso. Tseng draws in a sudden intake of breath, for all their agreed upon arrangement, he is unprepared, and wills himself to think of anything but the way it feels to be buried between those thighs. If they are to proceed, he must practice the utmost in self control. He lifts Rufus’ wrist to his lips, and presses a kiss there, against the faint line of a scar, then the other, and loops the silk around them tightly, once, twice, and again, before tying them to the bedpost. Rufus struggles against them in teasing defiance, and when they do not give, lets out a gasp, eyes suddenly wide.

They have discussed this all before, the how and why and what Tseng's intentions are with him, how it will require Rufus to relinquish whatever control he possesses in the bedroom, that he must give himself up to Tseng, and rely solely on the trust that exists between them, as equals, as lovers. He kisses Rufus once, lips gentle, loving, and when he withdraws, slips a blindfold over those painfully blue eyes, and a ring around his cock.

‘Your senses are going to overcompensate.’ He warns, gloved fingertips trailing lightly along Rufus’ torso, moving lower still. ‘I need you to focus on my voice.’ He knows that Rufus can hear the rustle of fabric as he removes his jacket, the thud of his holstered gun being set aside. ‘You know what to say, and I’ll stop.’

Rufus laughs. ‘Chocomog.’ An absurd safeword for certain, but Tseng can’t be certain he’s ever heard his lover utter that name outside of the bedroom.

‘We will cross a point, Rufus, when you will have to trust me.’ He looks to the materia glittering in the low light and begins. The muzzle of the revolver brushes along Rufus’ lower lip, eliciting a sudden hiss. Rufus asks if it’s loaded. ‘If you want it to be.’ Tseng finds little appeal at the prospect of being trussed up and held at gunpoint, but it’s something that makes his lover’s cock ache, and he is ever happy to indulge him, understanding that it is a way for Rufus to face his own inherent fears of being held hostage, by enacting such scenarios in the safety of his bedroom. He drags the gun down the line of his jaw, and the upwards once more to trail against the seam of his lips. ‘Open your mouth, or I’ll make you choke on it.’ Rufus does, and the sight of him there, tongue dragging along the barrel toward the trigger guard sends a jolt of pleasure to his cock. ‘You get off on it, don’t you?’ A moan, a nod. Tseng slides the barrel deeper, until Rufus is practically deep throating it, and cocking the trigger, takes in the vision of him arching off the bed sheets, desperately wishing to be touched. His free hand cradles the back of Rufus’ head, drawing him upward as if it were his cock between those lips. By the time he withdraws, Rufus is moaning and pleading with Tseng to fuck him.

He steps away, discarding the weapon, and focuses on his own breathing. He watches Rufus carefully for a long moment, until he calms.

They are no strangers to the use of toys in the bedroom, Rufus’ bedside collection of intricate glass phalluses frequently finding their way into their sex play. He selects one that is less familiar, a novelty piece that is said to have been modeled from the penis of a summon, or some monstrous creature. Rufus had laughed when he acquired it, saying that it looked like something that might escape one of the many tanks in Hojo’s laboratory, and slither up the air ducts. Tseng peels off his right glove, and ordering Rufus to turn onto his side, traces along a tight pink hole, before sliding one lubed finger in eliciting a sudden whimper. He prepares him until he is ready to accept the glass toy, and then settles back as he watches his lover stretch to accommodate it.

‘Which one?’ Rufus' voice is ragged. It must feel foreign, the way the glass has little raised ridges all about. Tseng hushes him once it is seated deeply inside, shifts him so that he is once more on his back, and tells him to focus. Tseng palms himself through his trousers, the pressure providing a bit of relief. Whatever need he feels, Rufus must tenfold. He’ll work himself into a frenzy if Tseng does not stay in control.

‘Rufus.’ The word is firm.

A plea falls from parted lips.

He repeats his name again, and his lover stills. ‘Tell me if you want to stop. We don’t have to do this.’ He’s met with a no.

The sting of his discarded glove against Rufus’ skin draws out a renewed cry. He rocks down onto the toy, pleading for more. Another smack, this time near his inner thigh. The pain interspersed with Tseng soothing each mark with a kiss, and then a quick teasing bite until Rufus is once more straining against his bonds, cock glistening with precum. Tseng stops, moving away to regather himself, looks to the materia once more, the use of which will strip Rufus of his autonomy. It’s an aspect never before implemented during such sessions, despite Rufus’ earlier enthusiasm, he does momentarily reconsider. He says his lover’s name, and when Rufus responds, settles on the bed beside him. ‘I need you to trust me. Focus on me.’ Rufus nods, sighs the word yes a few times. ‘Once I cast, you’ll be at my mercy. You understand that?’

‘Just get on with it, for Shiva’s sake, Tseng.’ Somehow Rufus Shinra, bound and pleading, still manages to maintain his certain proclivity toward annoyance.

It is the reaffirmation Tseng desires. He selects another toy, this time a favourite of Rufus’, something he uses for self pleasure, and withdrawing the first, watches as it slides home. Tseng allows Rufus time to grow accustomed to it, wishing that the familiarity will ground him, and then begins to fuck him with it, slowly at first, increasing into a brutal cadence, each thrust brushing against Rufus’ prostate, drawing a litany of moans, and cries, and pleads for more from those lips, body taut, arching, cock weeping.

The first cast hits him with Slow. Tseng watches carefully as his lover all but stills on the bed, and counting the seconds, continues to thrust the toy knowing that Rufus’ body is unable to counteract his touch. It lasts only moments, but the result has Rufus on the very cusp of orgasm, the ring still snug around his cock denying him that release when Tseng casts again, and then again, until Rufus is barely coherent. He says his name twice, worries they have gone too far, when Rufus gasps, ‘We’ve got to try that with you inside me sometime.’

He rolls a Seal materia in his palm, and takes a small leather case from the bedside. Rufus is trembling with adrenaline. Tseng brushes away the strands of sweat damp hair and presses his lips to his brow. ‘We can stop now.’

‘No.’

Tseng kisses his lips then, tasting the salty tang of tears, and sitting upright withdraws a single surgical steel rod from the case. The spell he casts robs Rufus of his speech, the second his mobility. And at long last, Tseng touches his cock, removing the ring, thumb brushing along the head to smear precum, probing at the slit there. It’s a delicate task, one Rufus has been desperate to try if only he could relax enough for Tseng to get the damn sound inside. And so they agreed upon this, weeks before, over cocktails. It fills Tseng with a sort of trepidation still and he hits him with another Stop spell, inhales once, and slowly slides the first few centimeters of the sound in. Even under the doubled status effects, Rufus whines high in his throat. ‘Rufus, I’m here. Relax.’ Tseng assures him, and waiting for him to settle, pushes it further in. He tells him how he’s safe in his penthouse, to focus on the sound of his voice, the scent of his cologne. The sensory deprivation coupled with the foreign sensation of a cylindrical steel rod being carefully guided down his cock certainly must be overwhelming. He continues until all but a few centimeters remain, and then taking his own cock in hand, slicks himself, and thrusts into the tight heat of his lover's body with a groan. He knows they won’t last long, and as Rufus regains his mobility, Tseng twists the sound, drawing a cry from his lips, then again, until Rufus is begging for more, unsure if he wants Tseng to remove it, or keep teasing him until it becomes too much for either to withstand. Tseng thrusting hard into that pliant heat, harder still, his body tensing and with a few erratic rocks of his hips, comes with a blinding intensity. Rufus arches beneath him as Tseng withdraws the sound, and spills himself all across them both with a sharp cry of pleasure, writhing against his bonds until they both still.

Tseng waits a handful of breaths, listening to the thrum of Rufus’ heartbeat, before he unties his wrists, kissing the red marks there. And when he removes the blindfold, he’s met with the same painfully blue eyes, presses his lips to damp eyelids, and holds Rufus close. They’re both in need of a shower, and Tseng supposes a drink is in order, perhaps more than one, but for now he is content to remain here with Rufus, arms and legs entwined, sharing the same breath, knowing that he alone has the privilege of breaking Rufus Shinra down only to reaffirm their mutual trust.

_ Fin _


End file.
